


The Son, And Yet Not

by kattahj



Category: Zorro (TV 1990)
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Letter, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-15
Updated: 2002-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter from Felipe at the university.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Son, And Yet Not

Dear Diego, 

\--yes, that will do. Your name alone makes sense in a way that *don* never did and *father*, unfortunately, never will.

I won’t be coming back for Christmas. I have balls of paper crumpled up in my paper bin with reasons as to why. An exam that needs to be prepared, lonely friends I should spend time with. I won’t insult you with trying to pretend that they are the truth. I could study for my exam in Los Angeles, and I know you would not mind if I brought with me some friend who needed it.

The truth is, I do not want to go back right now. I need some time to myself, to figure out who I am and what I should do with my life. If you think I said no to the adoption with an easy heart, you are wrong. The hardest part about it was to hurt you so much. Still I know I made the right decision. I cannot be the things you want of me, and to be frank, I do not even really want to. I wince at my own cruelty writing this, but I need you to understand, and you do not seem to listen anymore. It is an ironic twist of fate, since you are the one person who has always been able to understand me before. This is the first time words have ever been needed between us, and part of me resents that. Not you, never you, but the situation that has come between us. That even don Alejandro understands my decision better than you do.

You *are* my father, Diego, in every way that matters. You have done more for me than anyone else in the world, but I am not a De La Vega. I never will be. I wish I had been able to claim I would be proud to be a De La Vega, but it is simply not true. I am proud to know the De La Vegas, but your life is not mine. Maybe if I had been born to it as you are -- but then again, even you needed to escape from it. For me, it is wrong in every possible way. I cannot dress up like a nobleman, get myself a new name and new manners and forget what I come from. It would feel like living a lie, and I have been doing that for too long already. I don’t regret the past, but I also refuse to regret the future. I need to know who I am.

I am a son of the peasants and the soil, as well as the war that followed and the good life you gave me. I know the joys and hardships of those lives, and I will always remember it. I am an orphan with only the name Felipe to call my own, my family name I cannot remember, if I ever had one. My friends and I have been toying with different ideas for names, ”Criado” being a variant I am rather fond of. ”Trepador” has been suggested, but that I like less, even though it is true I am a climbing bird in many ways. I am also a cat among the ermines, of which I am proud and amused.

I am a mute. It is no less a part of me than any of those other things. Granted, there have been times when I have held my hopes of speaking, but this is the way things are. Maybe it will change some day, maybe not. As the moslems say, Insh’allah. That is another reason why it is so hard to face you. Although I know you want to give me your unconditional support, I see in your face so much hopes and wishes and despair, and I simply cannot agree to those emotions. My life is not second best. You taught me to hold my head high, and to believe in myself. In that belief, there is no room for ”what if”. If I am to have any pride, it has to be complete, and so I am proud of my handicap. At times it may be frustrating with the prejudices and misunderstandings I have to face, but that is not something that lessens *me*. I have been living with this for fourteen years, Diego, how can I see it as something else than an essential part of myself?

The first time I heard again, I cried. Not from joy of what I had gained, that came later. I cried from grief of what I had lost. It sounds insane, I know it, and maybe it is not possible to understand for someone who hasn’t been there. Our limitations are parts of us, and I had lost one of those parts. That was what made me so unsure, why I didn’t want to tell people. If I wasn’t myself anymore, how could I know how people would react to this new person?

I don’t think I would cry if I got my voice back. After all, I am older now and more mature. But if I live the rest of my life mute, I will not feel displeased at my deathbed.

Have I been able to make you understand, now that I have used words on you? Sometimes, forgive me for saying this, you can be so thick. I cannot be angry with you. For one thing, I am laughing too hard. Since I started writing, my roommate Javi has entered, along with a girl from town called Consuela. They know better than to disturb me, and so they spend their time sitting on my bed and competing in who can make the ugliest faces. Those two do not act their age. I will be spending Christmas with them, so you can rest easily, knowing that I am in very bad company.

Send my love to don Alejandro, Victoria, the baby, and all of our friends back in Los Angeles. I will come see you all, soon I hope. Just not yet. If baby starts walking before I come, you are free to write and scold me, and any longer than that I fully expect you to come over in person and drag me back in my hair. But for now, just give me some time and space, and remember that I love you very much.

yours 

Felipe


End file.
